Breen's eyes glistened. "When?"

"To-morrow night, at my rooms. Here's my card. And you, too, Mr.
Minott--glad to see both of you." Garry has just joined them.

"Thanks awfully," answered Minott. "I'm very sorry, Mr. Grayson,
but I'm booked for a supper at the Magnolia. "Lot of the fellows
want to whoop up this--" and he held the finger bearing the ring
within an inch of Peter's nose. "And they want you, too, Jack."

"No, please let me have him," Peter urged. Minott, I could see, he
did not want; Breen he was determined to have.

"I would love to come, sir, and it's very kind of you to ask me.
There's to be a dance at my uncle's tomorrow night, though I
reckon I can be excused. Would you--would you come to see me
instead? I want you to see my father's portrait. It's not you, and
yet it's like you when you turn your head; and there are some
other things. I'd like--" Here the boy stopped.

Peter considered for a moment. Calling at the house of a man he
did not know, even to continue the acquaintance of so charming a
young fellow as his nephew, was not one of the things punctilious
Mr. Grayson--punctilious as to forms of etiquette--was accustomed
to do. The young man read his thoughts and added quickly:

"Of course I'll do just as you say, but if you only would come we
will be entirely alone and won't see anybody else in the house."